Come Along PondII
by eha1234
Summary: Amelia has always wanted to travel the stars and now her wish has come true. One small problem - she is stranded on an unknown planet with no way home. With the Doctor and Clara, will she find a way back; or is she stuck for good?
1. Explosion

_Explosion_

Bang!

From the end of the long corridor of grey, metallic walls, an explosion abruptly ends the eerie silence of the abandoned spaceship hanging in the sky. Every surface rattles as the shock wave tares through the bulkhead like an earthquake. It is followed by a couple of seconds of sinister silence, except for the soft creaking of joints as they strain against the torrential force that is pushing them to their limits. Another bang, closer this time – too close for comfort. The ship is dying. I poke my head from around the corner of the corridor, watching the dark shadows that loom there, trying to see the source of the detonations.

Without warning, a shrill scream rings through the air like a siren; I stand dumbfounded as the long piercing sound becomes louder, coming closer to me with each passing second. Then, as though he materialized from the shadows, a man comes running out, wild eyes dancing as his curious 0 shaped mouth hangs open in shock, his manner brimming surprise and genuine excitement. His sticky out chin wobbles as he pelts full speed down the corridor. He's a serious screamer, I subconsciously think. A step behind him is a girl with chocolate brown hair tucked behind her ears, which flows in a wave behind her, and eyes the same creamy brown. She's wearing a pretty, retro dress with printed flowers that stands out against the stark, straight lines that make up the interior of the ship. What was her name? Clara – yes, that's it. All this I register in the instant before they slam full force into me.

'What?' It's the man who said that, the one with the strange name that I can't seem to remember. He didn't actually bother to talk to me, except for the odd comment that my name was 'interesting'.

'You're the one who was in the bridge, right - Amelia,' Clara states, slightly hurried. Her eyes are wide with a glint of barely subdued panic fluttering in the background but her demeanour is calm.

'I prefer Emily,' I manage to reply, just before another blast erupts even closer this time, close enough to make my teeth ache with the vibrations.

'What, you're called Amelia?' the man yells at me. Another explosion. I look back nervously at the creaking bend of the corridor which is blowing flames like an angry dragon. I have just enough time to open my mouth to reply before the man screams a frantic instruction.

'Ruuuuun!'

I don't argue.

My lungs are burning from the exertion and smoke, and my heart thumps so hard that my chest feels like it will burst but I grit my teeth, carrying on at full speed, not even bothering to look back. As we tare blindly through the desolate corridors of what was once my temporary home, Clara shouts at the brown haired man sprinting a little in front of us.

'What are we going to do, Doctor. Please tell me you know what you're doing.'

'Err, no,' the man, the _Doctor_ replies. I remember now; that was his name. Not, Doctor something, or Doctor of something, just Doctor, which is unusual on a ship full of scientists like this.

'We're going to die,' Clara shouts but the Doctor replies with comforting confidence.

'No we're not. My TARDIS is that way.' I have no idea what TARDIS means but by the way Clara's face relaxes ever so slightly from absolutely terrified to very, very scared I can tell that's a good thing. The Doctor points to one of the side corridors leading off to the right, breathing heavily as we run for our lives. From behind us the explosions continue, getting more frequent as time passes. I frown ever so slightly. That corridor goes to a store cupboard; I know, I have used it before but I say nothing. I don't have the breath to say anything. I can only trust. We curve sharply to our right and keep on running. And then suddenly I'm falling, not knowing why; listening to the screams that resonate all around me until I realise that they're mine. I can't breathe. My arms rotate in desperate windmills as I fall. Then I realise; we just ran out a hole in the ship. We're in to space. We're going to die. Then it all goes dark.

I open my eyes staring at a daisy, watching the pearly white petals with ingido bases wave from side to side in the slight salty wind on my face and I can hear what sounds like the regular breaking of waves on a beach, the soft swoosh as the backwash drags back sediment. I sweep my crimson hair, streaked with clingy, black ash, to one side and realise – I'm not dead; not floating through space exploded because of pressure difference, not suffocated by the lack of oxygen and not burnt to a crisp from the blearing heat of the sun. I suck a deep breath of sweet air and sigh. For the first time in my life, I appreciate how great it feels to be alive.

When I sit up the Doctor and Clara are speaking in hushed tones to one side, examining a smoking object that I can't quite see properly because of the way they are bending over it and blocking my view. I listen to the distant blabber of conversation – not intending to, but curious all the same.

I wonder what they are looking at when a voice asks the same question. High pitched, feminine; it is Clara.

'A piece of the ship, part of the outer hull probably; must have been torn off in the explosion, though most of its burned away on re-entering the atmosphere.'

'What's wrong with it?'

'Nothing, I never said anything was wrong with it.'

'Well, you wouldn't be staring at it if there was nothing wrong with it.'

'Be quiet, you'll wake the girl.'

'That's you changing the subject.'

My muscles complain and tell me to go back to sleep, to collapse back on to the grainy sand and coarse grass underneath me, but I'm fascinated so, defiantly, I force my muscle to move. For a moment I am unstable on my feet; my head feels light and the world pixelates then goes dark but slowly my vision returns along with my clarity of thought.

We're at the seaside with a paper white, sandy beach and turquoise water, just as I imagine an expensive holiday resort (the ones you find on colourful broachers) would be like. The wind is strong and they sweep the blue sapphire water into moderately tall waves. High up in the bright blue sky, sea gull like creatures screech in their annoying, piercing cries as they swoop and dive in search of food. It is incredible how similar to earth it is. If I close my eyes I can almost believe I am home. The sun is warm on my face, but not too much, bringing me back to my senses and warming my body, right down to the tip of my toes that were unnaturally freezing before. We're on the top of what looks like a sand dune, some three hundred away from the lapping waves that crash in to the white, sun baked sand. Here, grass and other vegetation have found leverage on the small granules, forming a bright patch of green instead of pure white. Behind me, away from the sea, I can see miles of emerald meadows and bright flowers and then behind it, a grey shadowy outline of mountains far in the distance. I turn and face the Doctor, watching his back as he bends down.

'What happened?' I ask. The Doctor spins round, surprised, and stares at me before answering.

'Well, the corridor which leads to the TARDIS snapped off. A weakened joint probably. We fell through space for about a second, in which time I managed to get a big button that fixed it all. Well actually it was a teleport-y thingy that teleported us to the nearest habitable location which was here.' The Doctor held up a big brass button with curved edges and a printed barcode on the bottom. I stand in silence for a second trying to process it all – the Doctor talked so fast I could barely keep up.

'What's a TARDIS?' I asked slowly after a while.

'It's my spacey, timey thing. She's what I use to travel through time and space,' the Doctor explains carefully as though talking to a child but I am no closer to understanding. I raise my eyebrows, quizzed.

'You're a time traveller?' I ask.

The tall man nods irritably like he has been asked this question a million times before and then turns his attention to the fields of colour that almost seemed to float as they moved in the strong sea wind that swept across the field. I brush my hair back again with agitation as the wind threatens to sweep it in front of my face.

It is now that I realise the harsh truth. We are not safe (not dead or in the danger of dying) but we are lost somewhere on an uninhabited planet that my ship, a proud explorer with all the latest gadgets, had been exploring, someplace in the corner of the universe. It is the only 'goldilocks planet' that humans can go to reasonably easily in a matter of months and I, as one of the youngest crew members had been excited to be part of the crew; my first space voyage just after training. I wasn't really doing anything. My job consisted mainly of delivering messages but I am, _was_, still part of it, part of everything. I laugh bitterly. Space mission one for Amelia – a complete disaster, I think miserably. I don't want to be stuck here; I want to go home. To Earth, familiar Earth, I want to smell the smog of my hometown, and make jokes with my social friends that I haven't seen for almost half a year.

'Could the TARDIS have taken us back to Earth,' I question the Doctor; my voice is calm but inside I am wilting.

'Of course it could. It still can, if I can find it, that is,' he replies.

'It's out there somewhere? Wouldn't it have been destroyed by the explosion?' I ask, surprised.

'Of course it hasn't,' the Doctor declares adamantly. 'Like us, it would have locked on to a safe place and landed somewhere. I should get a signal soon…' Just on cue a small beeping noise comes from inside his dark brown, almost purple jacket and he brings out a long cylindrical object that has a flashing emerald light on the top that pulsed as a high pitched beeping sound came out of it in a regular rhythm.

'What's that?' I whisper curiously.

'It's his screwdriver,' a kind, feminine voice says from behind me. I turn to face Clara; I had almost forgotten she was there. The whining object in the Doctor's hand, with bits and pieces oddly attached to it, doesn't look like a screwdriver but I keep quite because I can see he is concentrating.

After what felt like hours but was probably only about a minute the Doctor starts jumping up and down in excitement. I stare, slightly shocked as I had never seen an adult do that.

'The TARDIS, it's somewhere close,' he exclaims like a child and points towards the waving grass opposite the sea. 'That direction,' he adds.

'Great, let's go,' Clara says. She takes the lead and bounds off a step in front of both of us, climbing in to the long tangle of grasses that suddenly thicken as we walked away from the shimmering sea. I note that the Doctor takes a last glance at the smoking piece of rubble that he had been studying minutes before, and then follows Clara in to the tangle of vegetation. I follow, vaguely thinking of how it all started.


	2. Meeting

_Meeting_

Everything was going smoothly, not a single screw was out of place. Until the Doctor came of course, but that didn't happen until later. I remember the ship (_my_, as the word always slips out, ship) clearly in my head and a smile tugs slowly at the corner of my lips as I recall the awe when I took my first step on to the massive vessel. I struggled to revise what I had learnt during training and how spaceships worked, mind working frantically behind the wonder and amazement that was reflect on my face. At the time the best spaceship I had ever actually been in to was a cramped, old shuttle that everyone in my school class had taken turns to take a peek in, and although the hundreds of colourful buttons and knobs were interesting, the white shuttle with painted stripes wasn't exactly impressive. One of the final exams of training was on a virtual ship, full of screens and klaxons warning of imminent danger but it wasn't real. It didn't smell of metal and excitement; it felt rehearsed and fake.

'Wings', the huge ship that had been built for medium to long missions and that was to be my home for the next 6 months was a completely different story. As I stepped through the highly polished, 20cm thick doors holding a bag over one shoulder and my heart thumping as I looked round to see what it was like, I had gasped, trying to comprehend the enormous scale of it. A newly built, state of the ark spaceship, record breaking in its massiveness had something to live up to, and Wings did exactly that; built to be able to sustain around 100 people for lengths of up to 5 years in space, the multilevel spaceship had a living quarter for everyone, a bridge, an engine room, store rooms, social areas, a medical room, an observation deck and so much more. The twisting maze of corridors and magnitudes of different rooms made you feel like you were in a small, lively town – part of a community. My first look at the bridge left me jumping with excitement and blabbering incomprehensible gratitude to my superior officer, who had authorised the mission, even though as a first timer it was technically forbidden for me to go on long missions.

The most extraordinary thing, though, was being in space. The anti-grav-plates (the artificial gravity system integrated in to the floor) worked, meaning that we weren't floating through the corridors like they do in the old video clips that I've seen so many times when I was younger. You could easily forget you were far away from the Earth, forget that you were far away from any planet; until you looked out the window and saw the unbelievable expanse of black void, dotted with pinprick stars. But just to be in space, to know that behind the thick skin of the trusty ship was a lethal combination of vacuum and freezing temperatures was just an exhilarating experience. Over the coming months I spent every hour I could spare on the observation deck, watching the stars slowly moving across my screen of vision. Occasionally we would pass a nebula cloud or some other spectacle and I if I wasn't on the bridge or running an errand, I would be with all the passengers. I would be sitting on the comfy cushions laid out in front of the huge window overlooking the vastness of space, gasping goggle-eyed at the shimmering light of new stars bouncing off of collections of gas, at the rocky cliffs of asteroids. Our community was made up of 23 crew members, including me plus 71 passengers (mainly scientists). Being the youngest and often being dismissed as incompetent could be lonely and infuriating to equal extent, but I could cope. For this, I could do anything. Besides, after a few months with nobody else as company, even the most reclusive started to mingle.

The bridge that I spent a lot of time in was a room with a domed ceiling at the front of the ship. The massive window at the front showed what was in ahead of the ship, although through the screens dotted around the room you could also see behind the ship, to the side of the ship, or even a room inside the ship; anywhere that had a camera, basically. There were two doors going off it, one to a corridor to the rest of the floating science station and one to the captain's office which only the captain and senior officers could go in to. Around the bridge were a few consoles with rows and rows of colourful buttons where a couple of officers always stood, doing whatever they did. At the centre of the round room was the captain's chair taking pride of place, a high back leather chair that was never vacant. I used to imagine it was me sitting there. In reality I never even touched it.

It was just a normal day when the Doctor first came. After 5 months and a bit in space we were finally at our destination of the new planet, getting ready to land. The passengers who were either scientists or very, very rich, here to explore the new planet with lushes vegetation growing all over it, were all hurrying around getting ready for the trip to the surface of the planet; just a few more days to go. I was in the bridge, running an errand of routinely passing parcels to and fro when suddenly a man and a woman had sauntered in through the automatic silver doors.

'Ah, here's the bridge. See Clara, I told you we weren't lost!' the man exclaimed excitedly, smiling. He looked, frankly, ridiculous. He wore a dark purple tweed jacket, waste high trousers, suspenders and a bow tie (yes, a bow tie! my ancestors wore that around 100 years back). I remember staring at that bow tie for a long while, taking in the utter weirdness of it all – we were in space. You can't just saunter through light years of vacuum. He looked around mid-twenty, maybe thirty, with a chin that stuck out. His brown eyes and brown hair were fairly normal, except for the child like twinkle in his chocolate eyes and the deepness of them, like he's seen everything in the universe a million times – he seemed both perpetually old and amazingly young at the same time. Clara, the woman next to the man, looked around the same age him, perhaps a bit younger (or maybe it was that just the makeup), wearing a red dress with a black collar and black leather shoes.

When the man had finally realised we were all staring, his eccentric smile dropped and he looked around awkwardly for some time as though he had just notice we were there. I remember the uncomfortable silence that settled in the air, all conversations having come to an abrupt stop.  
>'Who the hell are you? Passengers aren't allowed on the bridge,' the captain, a short, old man with thumb length grey hair, spluttered, locking his piercing gaze on to the odd couple.<br>'We were just, umm…' the man had said before pausing and taking out a small piece of paper in a battered black wallet. The captain's expression changed as he looked at the object, going through a phase of shock and fluster then settled in to a professional smile almost as though he was a tour guide trying to impress the guests.  
>'We are terribly sorry,' he said politely, urgently making me want to roll my eyes. 'We didn't realise you were on board. Please, feel free to look around.' I frowned, confused – the piece of white paper had been blank but I didn't dare comment, just in case I did something wrong.<br>'Well, I've been keeping a low profile, for err, observations. Anyway, come on Clara.' The woman, Clara looked around and smiled with excitement.  
>'I've always wanted to visit a spaceship,' she whispered to the man.<p>

'May I ask your name,' the Captain asked the man smartly.  
>'The Doctor,' he replied.<br>'Doctor who?'  
>'Just the Doctor…'<br>'Ah.'

I had listened to the conversation vaguely. Everyone seemed to have forgotten that I was there, so after I passed a quick message to one of the crew, I stared quietly as a passive observer, not really doing anything. Clara had looked around the consoles, being warned every now and again not to touch anything, watching as the crew members worked away doing their allotted jobs. After a while she had come and stood next to me, leaning casually on one foot. I didn't think that it would matter, but because of the way the captain seemed tense to say anything wrong, I stood dead still.  
>'So then, what's your name?' she had asked.<br>'Emily Williams,' I remember replying automatically, as people do when that certain question is asked, surprised that she had addressed me. 'Amelia' I had corrected, flustered. Clara asked me whether I should be on the bridge, as I was not really doing anything; I had joked that I was a spare part but inside I really felt that way – an unneeded component, a fifth wheel, a waste of space. We talked for some bit – I explained what goes on around the ship, reciting the hilarious but rather scientific jokes that some of the scientists had been passing around and she told me stories, wonderful stories about her and the Doctor. I asked her whether she was from Earth – she looked at me as though I was stupid before replying that she was English. I told her I was Scottish but I lived in England. It is true – partly. One of my great something grandmothers was Scottish but she moved to America before coming back to Britain (how I still remember this is beyond me). I don't know whether that counts, but people find you more interesting if you are from a different country. After a while the Doctor called to her and they left together, Clara giggling excitedly. I stared dumbstruck at the door, half expecting them to come bursting in again, carefully tucking in the frayed edge my drab, grey uniform that had probably never been tucked in for the entire trip.

I think they stayed for half a day, exploring the ship. Everyone gave them a wide berth. That day is blurry, insignificant. As are most days before everything starts to go wrong.

I was in my quarters when it happened. The walls were a simple yellowy magnolia and the small room was furnished with a bed, a round, glass topped table and a few chairs. There were some simple oak storage cabinets and shelves too, stuffed with books and odd ends – a vain effort to try and keep myself occupied. The outside view, however interesting at first, rarely changed, and as the months went by it was slowly get tedious. I was reading, fingering the tattered pages of a book whilst tracing my eyes over the paper. Suddenly the whole floor jolted like I was in an earthquake and I sat up in surprise. An eerie silence had followed – a silence that wasn't supposed to be there. Normally the hum of the engine would always be with you, an annoying but strangely relaxing constant vibration, like a bee in your room, but at that time there was silence. Nothing. I knew something was wrong.

I had closed my book and stood up when another jolt tore through the ship, making me fall over and land heavily on the floor. I cried out in surprise and pain before standing up again and staggering to the door. A siren started ringing, the shrill alarm bounding across the room, telling us to abandon ship. I panicked, not knowing what to do. I glanced to the window and thought that the entire planet, hanging in space underneath us like a blue orb, was moving away, when I realised that it wasn't the planet; the whole ship was starting to tilt, breaking away from its regular orbit over the glowing globe. I screamed at that point as a muffled bang erupted from somewhere outside, a sound like an explosion somewhere in the depths of the ship. I pushed open the door and practically fell in to the corridor which bent sharply to my left further on. The sound had come from there. I bit my lip in horror. The escape pods were that way – my way out was the way the explosion had come from. I peaked round the bend of the corridor. The lights were off, casting suspicious shadows and further along the corridor was in complete darkness, like a pit, except for a glowing flash that looked like fire. I pulled my head back and tried to breath and stood, frozen like a statue. The silence went on for a couple of seconds.

I remember vividly.

Another explosion tore through the ship and as I looked round the corner the Doctor and Clara had slammed in to me. We ran and then we fell. I remember falling; a complete sensation of weightlessness.


	3. Cave

_Cave_

I snap abruptly out of a day dream. Dusk has just begun; there is a rose red streak in the clouds in front of us and the sun is low in the sky, blinding us so that we have to walk face down, which is generally annoying. It also means we can't look at each other and except for the Doctor who seems to talk whatever happens, none of us feels in the mood for a conversation – so we walk on in single file, listening to his rambles through the tall, yellow grasses. ('Ginger,' he had exclaimed. 'I want to be ginger.' Clara probably looked as bemused as I was.) A soft scent of flowers waffles through the air, sweet like the perfume you can't quite name, and the air is cool, pleasant to breathe. However the ground is soggy. Every time we take a step, a squelch can be heard among the last tweeting of stray birds, or whatever they are, nestling in the trees that we pass every now and again. We have been walking for ages. My feet hurt. Clara tells the Doctor I am Scottish (I admit it, it's actually a distant relative who's Scottish) and he seems relatively interested in that. I carry on walking, with no choice but to follow the Doctor's instruction on where his TARDIS is unless I want to be stranded here forever. It is a nice place, but I will probably end up dead in a week.

We trudge on miserably for a little while more with my shoes getting progressively wet and my toes starting to feel like ice, when suddenly the Doctor stops in front of us. I manage to walk in to him, my nose buried in fabric before I jerk back, embarrassed about the incident.  
>'What?' I ask, annoyed and slightly inquisitive.<br>'The signal, it's moved. Wait, it's coming from underneath us,' he replies frowning and looking around with his sharp gaze then bending down and putting his ear to the ground.  
>'How can it be underneath us?' Clara asks exasperatedly.<br>'Must be a cave system or something, maybe it got buried somehow. Wait.' The Doctor continues to scan the vicinity with his eyes and sweeping his green sonic screwdriver around the tall plants when suddenly he exclaims and points at a rock a few metres away. I squint, trying to see what he is so excited about and spot an opening in the sandy brown rock like a jagged scar big enough to squeeze through, black and deep like an endless pit where no sunlight had ever reached. We must be extremely lucky, I realise. Because the crack faced north, with no sunlight, we would have walked strait passed it without noticing, but right now, the sun is at its lowest point in the sky, it is almost as north as it will ever be, slightly illuminating the small crack.  
>'That has to be it. Come on Clara, Amelia, we have a cave to explore,' the Doctor whispers, cracking a wide grin before walking towards the dark entrance.<p>

The air inside the dark crack between too giant slaps of rocks is chilly and musty, in serious need of ventilation which adds to the feel of panicky claustrophobia in my chest like an iron fist is squeezing at my heart. Usually, I'm not the one feel alarmed in tight spaces but here in the darkness where you can barely move, where you can hear your own rattling breath and your footsteps echoing, it is just creepy. There is nothing growing here – I doubt anything can grow on the monotonous walls – and as we go further in, the tight passage opens out and curves downwards steeply. We fumble at the walls. I concentrate on putting one solid step in front of the other on the uneven ground but after a minute or so I realise the floor has smoothed out in to regular steps. A few more steps and the walls are smoother, less course under my fingertips; it is a corridor.

We follow the passage leading us sharply downwards for what feels like quite a while, trailing after the pulsing green light of the Doctors sonic screwdriver illuminating softly the darkness beyond. The Doctor and Clara stop, again. I open my mouth to complain when I catch a glimpse of what is in front of them. My mouth stays open, hung in a shape of shock and amazement.  
>'Wow,' I say, and it seems to sum up all our thoughts.<p>

At the end of the corridor is a massive cavern, around one hundred meters high and almost just as tall, made from a different stone to the corridor – shiny white marble smoothed to perfection like the rounded pebbles on the seaside. Embedded in the softly glowing, brilliant white walls are gem stones twinkling in the light in all different colours: rose pink, sapphire, emerald, honeycomb, sage, light sea blue to blood crimson red, so dark it is almost like black. Suspended from the walls by threads of silk, so thin they look like spider webs, are lamps glowing in the same soft, strange light, so thick and so comforting it feels almost tangible. The lamps add to the visibility inside the stone chamber. There are things which look like wind-chimes overhead as well, made from the same beautiful crystals embedded in the walls, tinkling in an invisible wind. ('Sensors, be careful,' the Doctor says.)

Near the middle of the huge cavern is a fabulous fountain filled with frothy, crisp clear water bouncing lazily down the steps of the stone feature. The sound of running water is a pleasant lullaby drawing me in to a sense of security. The air is sweet and not musty, like the scent of the flowers above us and it is warm, unlike in the corridor we had just been in. I shiver. It is nice, too nice in fact.

The Doctor puts down the sonic screwdriver in his hand as the light is no longer needed and gawps at the cavern with childlike excitement.  
>'I've never seen anything like this before. Well I have, but not recently. The stonework is smooth, no chip marks – this thing must have been here for hundreds of years. The salt in the air, it wears down the stone and gets rid of chisel marks you see,' he explains, studying the peculiar walls.<br>'Who made it?' Clara whispers, looking around nervously. 'Are they aliens. Are they still here?'  
>'Of course they're aliens. Who knows whether they're here or not, time to find out,' the Doctor speaks softly back spreading his arms wide and smiling a goofy grin like a small child being given a lollypop.<p>

'There's a passage way,' I say, not wanting to be left out of the conversation, pointing towards another crack in the wall at the other end of the cavern, similar to the one we came in through. I stare at the crack and decide that it doesn't seem dangerous in any way.  
>'Well, come on Doctor, Clara.' I take a step forward and so does Clara, feeling the smooth, cold stone under my feet.<br>'Are we going or not,' I ask, sighing; my irritation at not being able to make decisions myself finally seems to have come out. The Doctor stares at me, a strange almost pained expression on his face but it is replaced by annoyance almost instantly.  
>'Hey, I'm the leader,' he states. I raise an eyebrow.<p>

I hear the Doctor whisper, although he doesn't realise I'm listening, 'A Scottish girl called Amelia with _ginger _hair.' He shakes his head before bounding in front of us to lead the way. I frown, confused about what he has just said but I shake my head before laughing lightly. A year ago, I could never have imagined this happening to me, but here I was. What else could honestly surprise me?

With a small bounce in our step because of our new discovery, we walk steadily and cautiously to the middle of the immaculate grey stone tiles when suddenly a clatter of sharp taps echoes loudly from the corridor we were going towards like footsteps accompanied by a sound of excited chatter. I stand completely still a metre away from the fountain, frozen in fear and surprise. The noise gets louder and for a split second, I think I'm about to be discovered. A hand grabbed at my sleeve pulling me behind the fountain and the Doctor puts a finger to his lips, making a shushing sound just as the first creature came out from the gloom of the crack in the wall.

Two more follow.

The creatures are… well, alien. The sort of aliens you get in horror movies. The pale, translucent skin seems to shimmer like moonlight and has a slightly slimy quality to it is like the skin of a squid. Coming up to around my height, the aliens have tentacles, like an octopus, waving in the air and twirled round a small metallic object that look suspiciously like guns and the top part of the round blob resting on its limbs are black holes in the place of eyes. It is wearing plates of golden metal on its many tentacles and a small tablet covered with numerous buttons is attached to a belt round their middle. The three creatures scan the hall with their eyes but not really bothering to look carefully.  
>'Nothing here,' one of them sighs. I watch as another one of the aliens stretches up a limb and presses one of the buttons on the small device. It beeps.<br>'Nothing here,' it repeats. 'It must have been a false alarm. They should make them less sensitive, that's the third alarm today,' the creature says in a gruff, low voice, sighing in boredom.  
>'You know the rules. Anyway, I'll buy you a drink when you get back to keep you happy,' a more feminine tone comes out of the tablet. The first creature gives a last minute sweep of the room before turning back and disappearing in to the corridor. The other two follow obediently.<p>

I crouch behind the cover of the fountain too stunned to do anything for a minute.  
>'They speak English?' I ask slowly after a while.<br>'No, of course they don't. If _you_ can hear them, there must be a translation device in this hall – as far as I can tell they speak at least two different languages. Probably this civilisation is made of different tribes put together. I wonder what they're doing underground,' the Doctor explains.  
>'Maybe they're allergic to the sun?' Clara suggests.<br>'Maybe,' the Doctor replies before stalking up to the corridor. 'They must have carried the TARDIS down here.'

I hesitate for a second but Clara bounds off with the tall man so I follow, cautiously.

As we walk down the corridor, carefully listening in the pitch black for any sign of more aliens with the Doctor scanning for the way with his screwdriver (the whining is starting to annoy me), Clara asks me how I was taking it all.  
>'A bit surprising, I guess – it's my first encounter,' I say, biting my lip.<br>'I know how you feel; travelling with him, you've got to be ready for everything,' Clara tells me, smiling.  
>'On the bridge, on Wings, you told me stories. Were they all true?' I ask, staring at Clara, straight in her brown eyes.<br>'Every single one,' she laughs.  
>'Who is he, the Doctor?' I whisper.<br>'He's an alien who's around 1000 years old and has two hearts,' she replies with a completely straight face. I raise an eyebrow and break in to a smile.  
>'That's awesome,' I breathe. Clara smiles back.<br>'It rude to whisper!' the Doctor shouts from in front of us and after looking at each other for a second Clara and I both fall in to a fit of giggles.


	4. Kidnap

_Kidnap _

After travelling down a network of passageways and coming across a few more massive halls, we find ourselves in a small office (well, it looks like an office) There are stacks of paper bound and tussled carelessly on to the dark brown, wooden shelves around the stone walls and the floor is carpeted in a deep pile rug. There is a desk and chair in the corner. On the featureless, grey ceiling there is a white strip of light illuminating the entire room in a harsh, crystal radiance. Another one of the small rectangular tablets has been dumped casually on to the wooden desk, its screen flashing brightly as it works on something and, seeing it, the Doctor tips his head slightly as though he is perplexed.

'Hmm, I wonder,' he mutters quietly to himself before flashing his sonic screwdriver over it. The screen stops flashing and suddenly shows a diagram of spindly lines tracing the screen like the web of a frantic spider.

'Ah ha,' he cries in excitement. He seems to have forgotten Clara and I, still hanging hack at the door patiently watching him being slowly sucked in to the task at hand.

It might be my imagination, but I can hear a soft hiss from behind me, a coiling snake ready to pounce. When I look back to check, there is nothing but the inky blackness of the corridor and the streaks of neon light coming out of the open doorway. I shake my head to dismiss it but I can't help the sense of growing unease clinging to my chest. A single ice finger traces out my spine.

Suddenly, a splitting scream erupts from next to me, ringing in my ears like a shrill siren. I turn my head, shocked, when a smooth, cold tentacle suddenly wraps its surprisingly harsh grip around my mouth and nose. I try to scream but I can't breathe. The shrill noise next to me cuts off abruptly. _Clara!_ I think, trying desperately to turn my head to see her. Restricting my movements with a steady force, the tentacle around my mouth gets tighter and more thick limbs wrap themselves around my struggling arms. My lungs are starting to burn, begging for air but getting none; it is the desperate raving of a starved beast in my chest. Panicked, I try to call out to the Doctor. I see him turn round, surprised. Dozens of guns are pointed at him now but he doesn't panic, doesn't lash out.

'Let them go,' I hear him say, but my hearing is getting fuzzy and my eyesight is blurring. The Doctor holds up his screwdriver and the high pitched warbling resonates in the rock around me. Suddenly, the firm hold on my mouth lets go and then I am falling, rolling head over heels like a ball down a hard surface. A hear the sound of a door slamming shut and a sharp zap follows just before my vision goes dark and I slip in to oblivion.

Terror – that's the first that grips me as I wake in to awareness – pure unbridled, animal like fear that grabs me like a vice. I didn't know where I am. I don't know what is going to happen to me. Concentrating, I breathe deeply; forced breathing, rhythmic ins and outs, feeling the smooth, cold floor under me digging in to my ribs. Keeping my eyes closed, just in case the things of nightmares are in my view, I think about the simple things, just to get my mind strait again: my name is Amelia William, I am twenty-four years old, I am from the planet Earth and I came here on a spaceship 'Wings'. Slowly, the consuming panic subsides and bit by bit I manage to think rational thoughts. I feel a fine, cold mesh underneath me, digging in to my arms which ache from sore bruises.

Step one – assess situation.

Opening my heavy eyelids, I watch the scene in front of me without moving, slowly scanning the area to spot anything useful. In front of me is a wall of the same grey stone as almost everything in this cave system, glinting in the sharp, white lights. On one wall is a display of rectangular lights in all the colours of the rainbow – red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet in a geometric pattern with knobs and buttons on the side. I notice one big red button on the far right of the twinkling lights, the circular shape taking pride of place in a black and yellow border; it is probably something important. On the bottom of the wall is a dark hole which slides up, its silent blackness sinking in to the wall; it is big, big enough to slide through with space to spare and I assume it is where I fell through. My hands are caught on something behind my back. Turning slightly, I look over my shoulder and see a thin, metal wire tangled around my sleeve and one hand, knuckles white with holding on tightly for too long. Slowly I uncurl my stiff fingers around the blue, string like object and bring my hands around me, blowing softly on to the aching fingers, vainly trying to sooth them.

Silently, I turn to face the room, trying to keep as inconspicuous as I can. I can hear hushed tones in the room, too subtle to make sense of, telling me that someone (or _something) _is present. I study the chamber of grey stone quietly, looking at the room with burnt metallic components scattered all over it, similar to the permanent mess of a child's bedroom. A tinted divide that I hadn't noticed before is separating me from the rest of the room, confining me to one corner. The clogging claustrophobia is back next to my heart. One side of the glass box floats slightly outwards, a subtle rectangle that any less observant person would not have noticed – possibly sliding back to form an entrance. On the other side of the room, there is a smooth door with a small window at the top, showing nothing but blurry darkness beyond; the matt black surface almost seemed to sink in to the wall. It has a sharp metallic handle on one side, a curved metal plate at waist height.

I see now that there are three aliens in the room, waving their pale white tentacles over an object in the far corner and whispering to each other in hushed tones. Unlike the aliens I have seen before, they all wear white overalls like little alien scientists. I force down a laugh at the thought. I move my head, trying to see what they are studying and my heart seems to skip a single beat as I spot the cream writing on the grey fragment of massive metal, burnt at the edges: UKSS Wings, it's a fragment of my ship. The writing that was once crisp white, which used to be bold on the front of the proud ship, is almost unrecognisable, ripped and burnt by entering the atmosphere and ruined by the crash as easily tin cans crushed under a heavy foot. I almost involuntarily sob. Seeing it reminds me of the time when everything was predictable; I miss home, I miss my crewmates and my family but I close my eyes momentarily, calming myself to focus on the momentous task ahead. I need to get out of here without being noticed.

I stand up on wobbly legs. I am in a large, metal basket made of a fine aluminium mesh and wrapped parcels are disorderedly stacked at the side, every one of them with labels scrawled on. I step over the low divide on to firm ground and look back at the chute on the wall. Without warning, an object comes whizzing out of it, flying through the air as a blur for a moment before landing with a heavy thump in to the basket at my feet. This too has a hastily written label on it. My mind takes a second to comprehend and suddenly I understand – it's a delivery chute. I almost laugh. I fell through a delivery chute. I have spent six months running round as a delivery girl and now I end up as a parcel tossed down a tube. They must have some pretty big packages if they need a delivery chute like that.

Looking carefully at the parcel I read the label. The box, around 30cm in width and 10cm in height is covered in brown, crinkly paper, not unlike the baking paper I used to use at home when making cakes. It is covered in hair line cracks as though the thin, delicate paper has been crunched up then laid back out again; the parcel obviously haven't been looked after carefully and it is dented in places. The label says something to do with an intruder and 'file attached' is written hastily on the bottom but the rest is an illegible scrawl. Somehow it jolts me back in reality. I am an intruder – so it the Doctor and Clara. Then I think of Clara.

I don't know where Clara is and suddenly butterflies flutter around my stomach, churning in a sickly way as I remember the zapping sound just before I lost consciousness. I was separated from the group, and I am unable to do anything – lost and helpless. Suddenly, nothing is quite so funny anymore.

A little tap brings me back to reality and I turn abruptly, expecting to be discovered as my heart does little jumping jacks in my chest. There is an alien at the thin glass looking in my direction; I hold my breath and stare at it as it looks at me. Transfixed, I watch as the white creature pulls out a piece of paper from its pocket and secures it to the glass with a miniscule amount of tape before nodding and returning to the group. I realise I am holding my breath and let out an explosive sigh. The glass must be a one sided mirror. I look around the room and see overalls and gloves discarded to one side with what looks like a little hose pipe. The hoses are the same as the ones the scientists on Wings used for disinfecting and cleaning the suits after they have been in a sterile area. They must use this room to disinfect themselves before going.

I know I couldn't stay here. Sooner or later I would be caught. I had to find the Doctor and Clara. I had to get out. No more dawdling. Swiftly I walked towards the door.


	5. Escape

_Escape_

The simple 'Walk Out' plan fails almost immediately because as soon as I get to the tall metal door and pull at the handle tentatively, I realise it is locked. Exasperated, I yank on it harder this time but it makes no difference and before long I realise I'm more likely to set off an alarm or get spotted rather than succeed. I walk back to the middle of the glass room, pacing up and down like a caged animal as I futilely think of a way to escape whilst still being discreet. The glass door isn't an option. I even try climbing back up the chute but it is as slippery as a water slide and about half a metre up a slip and fall all the way back down again. It is a humiliating experience. I am stuck and I don't know what to do. Annoyed, irritated and tired from attempts to escape, I kick the door but the dull thudding clank resonates through the claustrophobic chamber and I stop, holding my tight breath, anticipating detection. Seconds pass but nobody has seemed to notice the noise so I let out a shaky breath. I am jittery, although I know it is pointless to be so.

Leaning on the door, feeling the cold hard surface pressing in to my back, I close my eyes and sigh. A small sound taps at the back of my head like footsteps on stone, echoing in my mind. Then I frown. The sound isn't my imagination… Suddenly I jerk forward like my shirt has been pulled from behind. There is something coming from behind me. I look around me, trying to find a good place to hide as I hear sound of a key being pushed in to a lock; I twist and turn in panic like a rabbit caught in the spotlight, searching for a place, any place, to hide. Just as the door is pulled open, I dive in to the large pile of white suits.

The alien that has just entered the room doesn't spot me. My heart beats far too loud in my chest and there is a strong rushing sound like a river in my ears but knowing I am safe for now, I let myself exhale, then inhale. I immediately regret the action as the sharp, artificial smell of disinfectant mingled with sweat burns up my nose like raw chilli. Gagging, I try desperately to hold in the bitter tang of bile at the end of my throat whilst breathing through my mouth. It is disgusting, but I manage not to be sick. I crouch, hidden partly in and partly behind the pile of dumped, rubbery white clothing, feeling the tough material tangled around my legs, trying to make myself as small as possible. Still tense, I don't dare to move. It could spot me at any minute.

The pale white creature moves its legs so smoothly that it seems to glide over the floor. As it reaches the glass panel that looks as though it could slide open, one of its translucent tentacles reaches up to the panel on the wall and holds down a magenta square light before speaking.

'Hey,' it shouts over the small microphone near the bottom, the low, resonating voice shaking my bones. I crouch lower, holding my breath. Brought out of their concentrated chatter, the aliens in the stone chamber look round irritably before one of them glides over and touches an identical panel just outside the glass, box like room.

'What?' it mutters petulantly.

'We've got another delivery. I want to talk about. Can I come in?' it asks smartly but the other one shakes its head.

'You gotta go through decontamination like anybody else,' it refuses, sighing and pointing towards the general direction where I am hiding. My heart jolts in fear as the alien in the room with me starts to glide towards me, a ghost haunting its prey. Desperately I press against the wall behind me and look around, trying to find a way out.

The first thought is to run; but I realise that isn't going to do me much good as the aliens will be behind me almost immediately.

Seconds seem to stretch to minutes as the pearly whiteness of the alien's skin fills my vision. It is wearing the same golden armour as aliens we saw in the massive cave, but now that it is closer I can see the detail clearly. It is made of hexagonal plates made of a metallic material and although when I first saw it I thought it was ridged, it is actually a thick fabric woven with golden threads that shifts and flexes with the movements of the wearer. There are little black patterns on the bottom of each plate – geometric shapes made of lines that crisscross the fabric with black print. It covers the bottom half of the octopus like alien's body and part of its legs. Near the middle there are straps and pockets where a tablet is secured. I also spot a thin, cylindrical object, like a pen, next to it. The alien moves each tentacle in front of the other so that the whole body floats towards me. I can't move and panic sears through my body, freezing me to the spot as though the floor is made of super glue.

'Oh, and make sure you hose yourself down properly.' The alien turns towards the figure dressed in white just outside the room impatiently.

'I know,' it hisses. I guess that they probably aren't best friends. The exchange is almost comedic in the situation; however this isn't a time for jokes. In the second that he is distracted, there is a small distraction. Without thinking, my hand shoots up and does the only thing it can do – it slams down on the big red button on the wall.

The affect is immediate. A siren blares through the entire cavern, ringing so hard it hurts my ears. I clamp my hands over my aching ears, desperately trying to block out the sound. The aliens look up hastily, trying to see what is wrong. They haven't spotted the rogue hand.

'Oh come on, not again!' one of them shouts through the noise.

'Everyone out now!' the alien scientist closest to the door screams, trying to be heard over the torrential, resounding echoes of the alarm. 'We'll sort this out once we're outside,' it continues. One by one, all looking bemused, they slide back the glass door before filing in. Once they are all inside, the aliens wearing the white overalls quickly takes them off, revealing the same armour like clothes that all the other aliens wear, before dumping them on top of me. I make myself in to a ball, trying not to be disgusted as another blast of horrifying odour waffles towards me. Opening the door, all the white creatures stepped out of the room.

As soon as they are gone I spring from the cover of the dumped overalls and catch the smooth handle just as the door is about to close. It is surprisingly heavy, like the fire door we used to have to get to the bridge and for a second it blatantly refused to open, yanking me towards the wall. I pull harder and slowly the small gap between the door and the wall gets wider. When it is just large enough to get through, I squeeze past to the other side.

'The other side' is a long corridor, perpendicular to the door and there is a glass divides the corridor in to two around three metres to the right. The aliens are that way, having just passed the translucent door with a panel next to it flashing green. Trying hard not to be noticed, I stick to the wall, with the sharp ledges digging in to my back, and sidle away, knowing that the alarm will attract others. When the aliens are a further five metres away, I turn on the heel of my black boots and walk swiftly away, still keeping to the shadows of the corridor that is dimly lit by dusty ceiling lights.

A voice shouts from behind me and even without looking I can tell they have spotted me. Terrified, I break in to a run, the patter of my footsteps echoing in the thin cavern. Although I can hear nothing, I know they are close behind and I put on another burst of speed. I squeeze my eyes shut. Suddenly, I slam in to something warm and big covered with fabric that is rough under my fingertips. I let out a high pitched screech and step back. When I do and open my eyes, I am confronted by a dark purple tweed jacket. Confused I look up and my heart jolts in relief as I see the familiar figure in a bow tie and suspenders, grinning as he fishes out the screwdriver from his pocket and points it at the glass door. The long warbling sound lasts for about a second and when I look behind me, the aliens are stuck behind the door next to a panel now showing red, futilely trying to pull it open. I grin so much it hurts my cheeks but, embarrassingly, there are tears in my eyes.

'Doctor!' I shout, voice full of emotion that I didn't intend to put it.

I look at him; I feel relieved to see him and the adrenalin pumping through me like fire is making me exhilirated and terrified at the same time. He looks at me, smiles and twiddles his bow tie.

'The alarm went,' he says, smiling. It is the warm smile usually reserved for Clara. 'Did you press anything you weren't supposed to?'

I smile back. I notice he does that often – twiddling his bow tie. I have enquired whether he has to wear that strange tie but the Doctor just replies that it is cool, with the air of someone saying the most obvious thing in the world.

'Come on, we need to find Clara,' he whispers in my ear – a suddenly serious tone in his voice – before choosing the closest door and walking through it.

We find ourselves in a small, cupboard like room; there is a display on the wall just in front of us and, underneath it, a horizontal panel with buttons and leavers all over it.

'That's more like it,' the Doctor mutters, closing the door behind us before flicking his screwdriver which extends in a telescope like fashion before scanning all over it with the green, pulsing light on the end.

'Couldn't get anything important out of the tablet,' he whispers before immersing himself in to the work. Here we go again, I think. He has a tendency to do that – ignore the world around him when he finds something interesting. I lean against the wall next to me and stare at space.

'Your name,' he starts after a while, still intently working with his screwdriver, 'Why Amelia?'

'Just, because, you know… My great, great, great, great grandmother or something was called Amelia. I'm named after her,' I reply feeling uncomfortable at the sudden conversation, so at odds for the situation we are in. What's wrong with my name?

'Was she called Amelia Pond, by the way,' the Doctor asks, still not looking at me. I shift my weight on to the heels of my feet, nervous and feeling very awkward. Random stranger (and he still was) do not start asking people about their family; nor do they _happen _to know who your ancestors are.

'No. Her name was Amelia Williams. Pol_…_ _Pond_ was her maiden name, I think,' I replied, trying to keep my suspicion from edging in to my voice.

'Amelia Williams. Yes. Amelia Williams; but she can't have kids,' he whispers.

'There is something in this world called adoption, you know – a distant relative who lost his parents,' I cut in, as he adjusts his screwdriver again, the harsh green light examining the door with a high pitched, whistle like whine.

'Oh nothing, it's just – I knew someone called Amelia Pond, married someone called Rory Williams – Amelia and Rory Pond.'

'You do realise it doesn't work that way. It should be Amelia and Rory _Williams_,' I object, aggravated, but the Doctor ignores me. His back is straighter and although the change is subtle, he seems happier, as though he has discovered something special. I am still confused.

'You should call yourself Amelia Pond, it's cooler,' the man says, nodding his head in exaggerated disapproval and twiddling his bow tie like he does every time he is thinking of something 'cool'. I nod my head slowly and uneasily, not really complying with the Doctor but feeling obliged to agree.

'Oh,' he stutters, putting away his screwdriver. 'Oh.' I look at the Doctor surprised, but my astonishment only deepens as I look at him. He looks old, so old, with sad, sad eyes that seem to have lost their distinctive, childish twinkle, like he has found something he never, ever wanted to find.

'Doctor?' I ask, a little tentatively. Even though we only met each other recently, I thought I knew the Doctor but this sudden change of emotion tells me there is more to him than meets the eyes, leaving me shocked and confused.

'Oh, Amelia, I am so, so sorry,' he says in a quiet voice; a barely audible tone.

'What's wrong,' I demand but the Doctor simply shakes his head. When he looks up he is happy and positive again; smiling and declaring that he has found Clara. It is almost like the small exchange hasn't happened. I frown, bewildered, trying to figure out what has happened.


	6. Searching

_Searching_

The Doctor tells me Clara is in one of the deepest chambers of what turns out to be one of the vastest networks of tunnels I have ever seen (not that I've seen many), bustling with activity like a bee house. The thought of Clara being stuck down there, surrounded by those strange, white creatures freaks me out and soon, I find myself speed walking down the steadily slopping, round passageway just behind the Doctor, heading to what he states is an elevator. I sincerely am unsure whether aliens have elevators, but I am not in the mood to ask. I am filled with worry and the initial burst of adrenalin has worn off leaving a dull, aching tiredness.

The 'elevator' is a hole in the wall. From the gaping opening, there is a chimney like tube going downwards and upwards, with a pulsing white light coming from inside it; it is a caterpillar heaving its mighty body inside a stone cocoon. The chimney goes down in to darkness – no light, no warmth, just blackness. As I look down waves of nausea rush over me like a tide and I look away, hand at my mouth, feeling ready to be sick.

'Do you suffer from vertigo, by the way?' the Doctor asks; there is a hint of amusement in his voice. ''Cause that's a hell of a long way down.' Then I realise – we have to jump. I feel even sicker and the butterflies in my stomach now seem intent and crawling their way out of my throat. I don't even want to consider the smudge of red paste we are going to become if this fails. The Doctor just smiles and steps in to the soft, white light. Shouting

'Geronimo!' he immediately shoots down like he has been sucked up by a vacuum cleaner. I cry out his name but there is no reply. I know I can't stand here forever. I would be caught, sooner or later, and anyway, the Doctor seems to know what he is doing (more than I do at any rate). I stare at the white light, willing myself to step forward – just one step – but my legs are like lead, stuck to the floor, and I won't budge.

After a second or so standing there looking like an idiot, I slap myself on the wrist.

'Get over it Emily, for goodness sake,' I mutter to myself before closing my eyes and forcing myself to put one leg in front of the other. Surprisingly falling isn't really like falling at all; in fact it is more like floating lazily in space but when I open my eyes just a bit, the wall is inches away from my face, flying upwards at an impossible speed. Thinking that it probably isn't a good idea to look, I hastily clamp them shut again, squeezing them tight and hoping for the best. My stomach feels like it has disappeared, like it did all those years ago on a roller-coaster as I screamed in half terror and half joy, and a whooshing sound fills my ears

It is over (thankfully) almost as soon as it starts. For a few moments I feel like I am compressed, before the feeling recedes leaving me woozy and exhausted. Reassuringly, there is a cold hard surface underneath my thick, black boots, and I don't, in anyway, seem to have turned in to a red smudge. When I open my tightly squeezed eyes, I am facing another corridor. I sigh. I want to feel the sun, the fresh air, the wind on my face; I want to never go underground in to the gloomy lit corridors, and I never, ever want to see another alien again – well, maybe not 'never'. 'Never' is a long, long word. I sprint to catch up with the Doctor a few steps ahead of me, already intent on finding his companion; all serious face with a little (dare I say it, cute) frown on his eyebrows. An emotion, that I am unfamiliar with, blossoms in my chest. Suddenly irritated I shake my head. You've only just met him, I tell myself. Silly emotions like that get in the way, they always have but I find myself unable to distance myself; the Doctor has an air of irresistible trust and security around him. Right now I could give him your life without ever doubting it. I shiver, not knowing whether that is good or bad.

The raggedy man with his screw driver poised high, bow tie resting just below his neck, tweed jacket billowing behind him as he ran, was not about to let anything get in the way of finding Clara – I doubt even an army could stop him. Even when a group of aliens came storming in from the other side of the room, all he did was stare at them, a ferocious glare in his deep brown eyes that would have chilled the blood of even the coldest monsters and made them crawl back whimpering in to their caves, and demand for them to return Clara.

'One chance,' he had hissed, 'one chance. Give her back or else.' When the aliens replied quite rudely by zapping there lightning bolts of pure white electricity out of their guns, the Doctor waved his screwdriver and suddenly the metallic objects in the aliens hands died, lights turning off until it became a useless weapon. They ran after that. Even when the sirens blared and all the doors unexpectedly locked, he waved it away like it was nothing. His companion has been taken, he is angry; nothing is going to stop him. I follow him meekly.

To be honest, I wasn't doing much. The Doctor seemed to take care of everything, so I just let him do what he did.

Passing through a maze of grey, stone rooms, each monotonous and depleted of any sort of lavish decoration, the Doctor leads the way through the noise of the blaring alarms. The number of strange creatures in our way steadily grows. Soon we realise that we can't continue like this, walking through their lair in plain sight.

'We need to be subtle, discreet. We could go through ventilation shafts but they're too thin to fit through,' the Doctor sighs. I remember the grated, rectangular holes at regular intervals on the wall of each corridor. They are only about 30cm in width and I nod – we will never fit in there, and personally I don't even want to try.

'Maybe there are more of the delivery chutes that fell down,' I mutter.

'What?' the Doctor asks, suddenly turning round.

'You know, there are delivery chutes in every room that parcels fly out of.' With that a small smile comes on to the Doctors cherry red lips. A warm feeling fills my body like hot milk, as for the first time I seem to have managed to do something useful.

'Come on Pond. We have a delivery chute to find,' the Doctor laughs.

'Williams,' I mutter. He doesn't hear.

A thing I have found out during the past day: I hate delivery chutes. Falling terrified down a wide hole, not having time to think is one thing, but crawling through the endless, compressing tube on my elbows, trying hard not to panic, is another thing all together. It is exhausting, meaning we have not energy for conversation, which adds an oppressive silence to the air. Every so often, a parcel would fly down and whack one of us before bounding past us. That hurts, strangely enough. It is mostly downhill, so at least we won't have to start all over again if we fall, but it is tiring work. Trying hard not to slip on the smooth stone with no purchase what so ever is like trying to go down a waterslide slowly. We could just slide down, but not knowing what is down there, it isn't really an option we want to take.

There is an annoying piece of my grey uniform trailing behind me, but too scared to let my arms go in case I fall, I try to ignore it. It keeps hooking under my bare elbows making me slip a few centimetres. Every time my arms loose purchase I become scared stiff, taking a second or so to compose myself. Unexpectedly, it catches again but this time I don't fall a few centimetres, I tumble unstoppably forward in to the Doctor and making him slip too. Suddenly, we are both sliding and screaming as we scramble to try to find a way to stop. However the smooth, featureless tube offers no break. We (or at least I) are still screaming when we are spat out on to a crate full of brown parcels and notes.

'Talk about discreet,' I grumble, brushing down my clothes so now thick with dust although the grey tone makes no difference to the original drabness. Next to me the Doctor untangles himself from the mess on the floor and does the same.

'Amelia, what was that for,' he shouts at me. His face is funny; eyebrows squeezed together and chin sticking out. Involuntarily I laugh.

'Discreet, Doctor, discreet,' I say, although I am frantically stifling a laugh. 'No shouting.'

Luckily, the room we find ourselves in is deserted. The Doctor immediately sprints over to the nearest tablet dumped on the deep mahogany desk at the corner of the room. After examining it for a few moments he cries in ecstasy.

'She's close,' he whispers as loud as he can without talking, which makes his voice comically distorted, before running outside the door. Almost immediately I realise it was not well – as soon as he had done his rather grand entrance, there was the sound of shouts and clicking; there was a bit of zapping too, which I guess probably isn't a good thing.

'Doctor!' A cry of relief and annoyance came from in the room – Clara's voice. I sigh, in relief mostly but also wondering why the Doctor's strong point is never subtlety. I run through the door after him.

My breath catches in my throat as I look at the scene through the door – it is both extremely peculiar and perplexing at the same time. The Doctor is holding his screwdriver up with one hand like a wand towards a group of aliens in the corner of the very large stone chamber, whilst Clara has one hand handcuffed to a metal bar in the other corner of the room with the other hand holds a dangerous looking hammer (where she got that, I have no idea). I open my mouth to say something but immediately clamp them shut as they turn to look at me.

'Get this thing off me!' Clara shouts, jangling the handcuffs on her left hand. The Doctor hastily moves to comply but as soon as his screwdriver points away from the hoard of angry looking aliens they jump forward. Stumbling backwards the Doctor fumbles for a door, just as Clara is free. She joins us and looking at each other we run through the first door we can find and then through another and another until we are almost completely lost.

Out of breath, we look at each other and laugh – a mixture of relief, joy and exhilaration mingled with the joyous tinkles.

'Yawza!' the Doctor shouts. He then looks behind me and spots the angry mob of aliens behind us.

'Run!' I scream.

We run; we seem to be doing a lot of that recently. My legs pound as I run, down a corridor that passes in a blur of movement that obscures all details. Although I can't see it, I know it will probably be like any other featureless grey corridor in this gigantic. Soon, the Doctor ushers us in to a side passage and we wait for the aliens to pass, the klaxon alarms still ringing in my now hurting ears. I wish they could be nice and just turn off the alarms for once.


	7. Endgame

_Endgame_

The flashing lights hurt my eyes and the contents of my aching head are a mingled blur. I take a second to close my eyes. For one panicked moment, I don't know which way is up, or down, or anything anymore and every part of my body is stiff with dull pain but soon the feeling resides. I have probably done more physical exercise this past day then in all my life put together.

I open my eyes. The Doctor is nearly finished constructing his mingled device of nuts, screws and odd materials sticking out of it at strange angles. We are in the relative safety of what looks like a storage cupboard, but still I am alert and attentive – more so now that I have rested. Clara is next to me staring at the Doctor whilst the Doctor is doing what he usually does, which as far as I can tell mainly consists of being confusing. Muttering under his breath he is tearing strips of wire together and ramming seemingly random objects in to a strange device made of odd ends.

'What's that?' I ask, my voice strangely ringing in my ears as I shout to be heard over the wailing sirens.

'There's a computer core a couple of metres away from us. This thing,' the Doctor points at the odd contraption in his hand before continuing, 'it will scramble the generators and wipe the memory, not to mention blow up a couple of circuits – irreparable. Without their computer, the aliens here won't be able to do anything. In fact, more devastating will be the fact they can't even communicate without their translator. They'll descend in to chaos,' the Doctor explains.

'I don't want them to descend in to chaos,' I point out curtly. 'What they did, it was self defence. If I were them, I would be curious.'

'What if I told you they purposely crashed your ship to salvage more technology,' the Doctor says. His expression is unreadable, his unnaturally cold voice devoid of emotion except for the small hint of anger seeping in.

'What?' Clara asks, bemused. It takes a few seconds to comprehend what he has said. I stand, gawping at him, muddled mind unresponsive.

'The aliens, destroyed my ship?' I whisper slowly, not knowing if it is a question or a statement. The Doctor nods. Clara just looks at the Doctor with wide eyes. I am disorientated, surprised and more than anything confused.

'But…Why?' Nobody answers. The silence is oppressing.

The Doctor stands up and for the first time I see just how old he is. He is not childish, he is not cheerful, he is not one to be joked with and he is old, older then the night. His eyes are like miniature storms and his expression is cold as frost. When we are out of our safe hiding place he marches up to the nearest door he can find and yanks it open. Of course the guns are on him at once.

'Hello! Point your silly little guns at me. I'm the Doctor,' he shouts. I follow him in to the room absent minded, not really taking in any of my surroundings at all. My feelings are conflicted – should I hate these people. I am tempted to.

I stop as I see them in a line as though they have been waiting for us – the aliens; there are hundreds of them (that might be small exaggeration) their expressions that of anger but there is a glint of fear in their eyes.

'I want to speak to your leader,' the Doctor continued. The faces in the room one by one turned in to surprise.

It is scared. Although it struts in full of ego, with an air of authority around it, the fear is apparent in almost as a tangent smell, in the way it shivers when the Doctor smiles. It is scared, scared of the Doctor and I find that strangely amusing. Well, we did just manage to escape an army of the aliens and be undetected for the last couple of hours. My fist is clenching and unclenching. Part of me wants to see him dead, all of them dead and humiliated. The other is simply confused.

'Now,' the Doctor starts. 'I have a deal. We leave you alone, you leave us alone and you stop shooting down space ships.'

'And w…w… why should I l…l…listen to you?' it asks.

'Because you destroyed the home of people I like and you are not in the position to negotiate. Now we leave and it will be like nothing has happened.' The Doctor smiles before pulling a chair from the corner of the room and sitting down with his legs stretched out in front of him. 'Now, should we get back to business?' he says spreading his arms.

It is going well, or so I presume from the startled face of the alien in front of the Doctor – it is always good to be one step ahead of your enemies; well, that's my point of view. Suddenly the door behind us bangs open and another alien walks in. I raise my eyebrows silently taking in the new figure who obviously is in more control of this place then the so called 'leader'; it's stature is that of confidence and he has no fear in his eyes. It is either it is powerful or very ignorant. I mutely find myself hoping that it is the latter.

'What is this? Do not tell me you are negotiating with these, 'outsiders',' the new alien says curtly; making it obvious he was stifling a laugh. It hadn't realised but the Doctor's aura is growing steadily stronger and angrier, making the air feel electrified. The hairs on the back of my head ping upwards as though attracted by static electricity.

'Do you have a problem with that?' the Doctor asks.

'Outsiders are not permitted to speak,' it hisses back, pointing his gun. 'I suggest we arrest them immediately.' I stand ready for anything when suddenly we are plunged in to darkness.

A hand grabs my arm and I manage to stifle a scream as I feel that it was human. It tugs me towards the door and from the faint glimmer that passes through the crack there I see that it is Clara leading me with the Doctor's arm clenched tightly in the other hand.

'Saw a switch, thought I should press it,' Clara explains once we were outside. A commotion is growing inside the room where the aliens are desperately trying to get control of the situation and were obviously failing to do so. The shouts coming from inside are progressively desperate and loud but deciding to ignore them we continue down the corridor.

'What do we do?' I ask.

'We use the thing,' the Doctor replies simply holding up the computer scrambling thing.

It doesn't take us long to find somewhere we could activate the thing from. There are lots of computers and wires to connect the thing to, but the Doctor seems irritated. When Clara asks what is wrong he says he is missing a connection wire.

'It's something long and thin and…' he stops as I hold up something that I had been fiddling with in my pocket for a while now. It is the wire that had got tangled when I fell through the delivery chute.

'…Something like that,' he finishes, smiling. Taking it, he connects it to one of the shining consoles and flips the leaver on the side of the devise he had just created it. Sparks flew and for a second nothing happens. Then the image on one of the big displays fuzzes in and out of focus before going out, fading in to black. The alarm dies and the light turns off, plunging us in to darkness. There is a strange sense of satisfaction growing in my chest. I ignore it as best as I can.

As if on cue, the Doctors screwdriver starts warbling from inside of his pocket and he takes it out, using the pulsing green light on the top as a torch before flicking it and examining it.

'The TARDIS!' he exclaims. He slams open one of the doors leading off of the room we were now in and there, just behind the door is his TARDIS – it is a big blue box. The words POLICE are written boldly on the top underneath a lamp which glows ever so slightly in the dark. It is made of wood and the exterior was, as far as I can see quite small; surely only one person could fit. One thing that I find very strange is how normal it looks, even though it is distinctively different from its surroundings.

'It's umm… a wooden box,' I say nervously.

'Oh don't worry. You'll get it once you step inside,' Clara laughs at my reaction. The Doctor struts up to the deep blue thing and, stroking the wood, unlocks the door, whispering to it as though it was a person.

The door behind us suddenly bursts open and a lone alien bursts in looking shocked for a moment before running out again, probably to call friends.

'Get in,' the Doctor shouts and Clara runs to comply. I pause, staring at the alien for one long second.

'Amelia?' the Doctor asks, gesturing at the open door. There is a roar at the back of my head, a ferocious beast clawing its way out. I stare at the alien, now blabbering something incomprehensible and waving its pale arms; it is small – young, maybe. There is a frantic air around it, full of desperation that tells me it is begging. I hold my glare and it sinks back, afraid.

It is that one movement that jolts me out of my haze. I look at the alien and see fear. I jolt back, revolted at my actions; it is not its fault.

Without another word, I jog through the wooden door that has a severe creaking problem and gasp as the sight hits my eyes. It is massive inside; huge, an unimaginably big, circular room with even more doors going off the edges of the sleek blue interior. In the middle is a console, also circular with so many bits on it that my eyes hurt from trying to look at them all. On the top there are two spinning disks on top of each other with strange shapes on the edge – circles overlapping circles. There are more circles around the room (maybe the Doctor likes circles).

'It's… it's… it's bigger on the inside,' I splutter and the Doctor grins at me.

'I love it when people say that,' he comments and swaggering over to the consol, he flicks the switch. A strange metallic thumping fills the air.

As I open the door, it creaks and when I look out I see that we aren't in the alien room but somewhere else entirely. My mouth drops open as I recognise the science institute with the training centre opposite it that is where the voyage had started from – the glass panels, the scribbled graffiti on the walls that the caretaker battles with every day. People bustle in and around the building, shopping and doing normal stuff that normal people do. My heart clenches and I sniff back tears as I realise we are on Earth. I am home.

I stand still, too surprised to say anything. I look at the Doctor and he smiles back, twiddling his bow tie – it's a sad smile.

'Good bye… Amelia Pond,' he says. Then giving us one last glance he and Clara walks back inside the TARDIS. Along with a metallic thumping sound the big blue box disappears. I stand still amongst the colourful sea of people.

'Bye doctor,' I whisper at the empty air where the majestic blue TARDIS stood just seconds before.


	8. Earth

_Earth_

We're home. Back home. He dropped me off one year later; well, seconds for me. The crew made it too. They got on the escape pods and made it back to Earth. There were some casualties, but they were light. Everything was alright. Three years later I still remember – the Doctor and Clara, the aliens. I have completed three space voyages, all of them successes (although a little dull) and even got an award. Sometimes I look up at the sky and wonder if it all was a dream but I have my disappearance for a year to tell me it was reality. Sometimes I look up at the stars and wonder what else is out there, whether I'll visit them one day but with all the new missions already planned, I know I probably will. However, when I look at the inky expanse of night sky and wonder if the Doctor and Clara will ever come back in to my life I don't know, and maybe I will never know. But I am determined. I will find them. One day.

One day I will visit the stars on the TARDIS and run with the Doctor again.


End file.
